Pursuit
by BiteMeTechie
Summary: Who says you need masks to play cat and flying mouse?


_A/N: This story was written for the Free For All Fic For All-or FFAFFA for short-over on the Ask the Squishykins tumblr, wherein Twinings and I offer ourselves up to fill as many fic prompts as humanly possible with stories ranging in length from 100 to 16,000 words. The current round runs until May 1st, 2014, so if you'd like a fic written to your custom specifications, please don't hesitate to drop by and ask for it! :)_

_Prompt: Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle are forced to watch a robbery in progress without changing out of their civilian identities._

* * *

"Window shopping?"

At the sound of the smooth baritone, Selina Kyle's lips curved into a smile. She didn't turn away from the Toulouse-Lautrec in front of her, but her eyes drifted toward the source of the voice and took him in—all six foot two, tall, dark and dreamy of him. "Are you?"

Another man might have blushed or shifted his attention away from her at the implication that he was ogling. Bruce Wayne's gaze stubbornly stayed fixed and traced the curves her body, searching for any hint of the catsuit under her little black dress, she was sure. Though he might have appeared to be the very picture of a slouchy carefree playboy at a museum gala to an outside observer, one look at the determined set of his jaw and steely glint in his eyes was all Selina needed to know who she was really dealing with. "You're casing the place."

The swivel of her hips was calculated to be enticing as she turned to look at him. "Now, would I do a thing like that?"

Bruce didn't say a word, but his eyes spoke volumes of undisguised suspicion. She laughed and took a delicate sip of her pink champagne cocktail.

"I wouldn't dream of parting that painting from that frame," she said, drifting past him. "It fits the décor too well to deprive the room of its presence, don't you think?"

Without waiting for an answer, Selina slipped away to circulate amongst the crowd. She shook hands here and there and stopped to make amicable chitchat with people she knew well enough to acknowledge but not well enough to care much about, and made her way to another exhibit—a small sculpture in a glass case.

As if by magic, he materialized next to her. "Small enough to fit in a handbag, isn't it?"

Her laughing eyes locked with his stern ones in the reflection of the glass. "Now who's casing the place?"

"Still you."

"Were you planning on following me all evening?"

Though they didn't break eye contact in the glass, she didn't have to be looking to know he took another step. He was close enough that she could feel the radiating heat of his body. It gave her pleasant tingles. "If that's what it takes to keep you out of trouble."

"Are you sure shadowing me will keep me _out_ of trouble?" She asked, turning her head slightly toward him. "There's more than one kind to get into, you know. I can think of a few varieties that require two participants…more than a few, in fact. Would you like me to list them?"

His breath was hot on her neck. She logged the goosebumps it gave her as just one more bonus to keeping her hair short. "I'm only interested in keeping you out of the illegal sort."

"If that's what you tell yourself to make it through the night." A flirtatious grin twisted her lips. "Who am I to argue?"

A couple of museum patrons walked over to look at the display and discuss it, putting an abrupt end to their privacy. Selina gave him a parting wink and wandered away toward one of the many refreshment tables along one wall of the gallery. She couldn't help but smirk when he "casually" appeared next to her.

"If you're not more discreet, Mister Wayne," she said in a husky voice, surveying the various finger foods on offer, "some reporter might notice we keep winding up together and snap a candid photo. I'd hate to be your latest tabloid romance."

"Really?" One skeptical brow lifted. "I somehow doubt that."

"Well, at least have the decency to buy me dinner before you ruin my reputation in the eyes of Gotham City." There was a sensual quality to her laughter, even as she vanished into the crowd.

He didn't follow her, yet when she found herself standing in front of a vase on a pedestal in the middle of the room, he somehow appeared to her right.

"Call me paranoid," she said in an easygoing, conversational tone, "but I get the distinct impression you don't trust me."

"Should I?" Bruce circled the pedestal until they were facing each other.

"Of course not. I certainly wouldn't if I were you."

He saluted her with his martini glass. "I'm glad we both agree you're not the least bit trustworthy."

Selina's expression changed to a passable impression of hurt. "Bruce, you wound me. And after I've been such a good girl these past few years."

His face softened into a smile, but his eyes stayed sharp. "You've been lots of things over the years, Selina, but I wouldn't say 'a good girl' is among them."

She polished off the last of her champagne and placed the glass on a tray as one of the many waiters bustled past. "Now you're just flattering me."

Bruce didn't look amused.

"I didn't say _stop_…" Her mischievous green eyes twinkled.

"Selina…"

It was meant to admonish, but she didn't accept it as the rebuke it was intended to be. Selina sauntered around the pedestal and placed one gloved hand on the broad expanse of his chest. "What makes you think I'm here as anything other than a dedicated patron of the arts?"

One of his hands closed over hers, his grip gentle, but firm. "Experience."

A scream and a gunshot shattered the festive atmosphere. Selina's good mood went with it. She turned accusing eyes on the gunman who burst into the gallery, guns literally blazing. Of all the inopportune times for some idiot to rob the place…

"You!" The gunman was disheveled, in a wrinkled suit and tie, and he swayed for a moment before he aimed his gun directly at Bruce's chest. "You ruined my life!"

And now, as everyone's attention was fixed on them, she couldn't get away to slip into something less comfortable and more bulletproof. Neither of them could. Great.

The wobbly gunman started for them. It was apparent that he was quite drunk and—if the red, streaky appearance of his face was any indication—had been in tears for awhile. Selina traded a look with Bruce as he approached and they nodded to each other with such subtlety no one else could have seen it.

"You…you fired me!" He screamed in Bruce's face, pointing the gun at his head. Bruce glanced at Selina and she, obligingly, let her eyes roll back in her head.

"Oh!" She swooned and fell sideways in a move that was pure melodrama, right into Bruce's waiting arms. One of her stiletto heels swept under the gunman and put him off balance as she went down. The gun went off, a bullet lodging itself in the ceiling and raining down plaster but otherwise harmless. Selina went limp and Bruce swung her up into his arms more securely, slapping her face to revive her and making a point to knock over the gunman in the process.

Though deliberate, it all looked clumsy to the point of being hilarious. With the would-be assassin already down, a few party attendants somehow found the courage to venture forward and restrain him. Someone supplied some smelling salts that wound up under her nose and Selina's eyelashes fluttered as she feigned coming out of unconsciousness.

Her smile was dreamy when she 'awoke' to see Bruce's handsome face staring down at her with a false look of concern that was flawless in its execution. "My _hero_."

"My heroine," he murmured into her hair as he helped her to her feet.

She waved off the encroaching crowd and made some remark about feeling silly for fainting, leaning on Bruce for support and muttering about wanting to go home after such an ordeal. He motioned for someone to get her car and guided her away, playing the part of the dutiful gentleman well.

Selina let him lead her to the coat check room and help her on with her wrap, even though she didn't need any assistance. It took a lot of effort to keep from smirking at being treated like a dainty, pampered cat as she took his arm and sashayed out of the museum to her waiting silver Mercedes and driver.

"Thank you, Maven," Selina said to her chauffeur as she opened the car door.

Bruce helped her inside. "I suppose this is the part where you ask me to join you for a late dinner or a drink…"

"You would only chivalrously decline. Besides, I don't think that's necessary. We'll be seeing enough of each other later as it is," Selina said.

"Really," he said suspiciously.

"Oh, yes…" She gave him a grin as Maven shut the door, "After all, I've got your wallet."


End file.
